Unraveling, with Brooke Baldwin

Dearest Unravelers and Unravelers-to-be —  

Once upon a time… there was a movie that rocked my little-girl-world. It was spring of 1989. I was just shy of turning 10. Ronald Reagan had just left the White House, and George H. W. Bush was recently inaugurated. Madonna, Michael Jackson and Guns N’ Roses were topping the charts. And a little comedy called Troop Beverly Hills had just debuted in theaters, starring the great Shelley Long. Here’s the trailer:

Let me state the obvious: it’s a movie from 35 years ago (the hairstyles alone will tell you that). It’s not at all politically correct or culturally sensitive. And it’s about a bunch of rich white kids who become Wilderness Girls who wouldn’t know the word ‘privilege’ if it bit them in the ass. YES, IT IS ALL OF THAT. AND ALSO… it’s about a little girl whose parents are on the precipice of divorce, whose mother (despite being a little lost) is trying to show her daughter and her friends how to be kind and how to rise up and even lend a helping hand to their biggest bullies (ugh, the Red Feathers!).

In short, it’s a film about being GOOD.

As a kid, I wondered: “Where is this… Beverly Hills? Why are their shoulders so poofy in dresses? What is this gross looking food called ‘caviar?’ And what’s that place where the girls order room service and tell ghost stories? A place called… the Beverly Hills Hotel?!”

Y’all, it’s just one of those things from childhood that stuck. I had no reason why, but stuck like deep-nostalgia-around-going-to-all-the-movies-with-my-family-as-a-kid-always-ordering-buttered-popcorn stuck. “Extra butter please.” Thanks mom and dad. It stuck.

Little would I know… 35 years later… I’d find myself living in Los Angeles, mere miles from the famed Rodeo Drive. Not only that but I’m living with a man who’s written and directed more than a movie or two… and had never even heard of Troop Beverly Hills?! WHAAAAAT. So I made a pact with Peter. As I’ve been Unraveling and figuring out which projects I’m interested in professionally, I said to him: “Whenever I have my first win out here in LA, I want to celebrate by living my Troop Beverly Hills dreams and treating myself to one night in the Beverly Hills Hotel.” Peter, of course, obliged. He’s always excited for any excuse to celebrate me. But I could tell this slightly hardened filmmaker was a little WTF when it came to my specific, some-might-say silly, childhood request.

Cut to — this week. The day arrived. The win is happening. I’ll be hosting a podcast. I can’t wait to tell you all about it. I miss talking to you and using my super power: interviewing people. Plus I love that I get to use my voice. Just that — my voice.

Finally. BB at the BHH. 💚🩷

So here I am, months — really, years in the making, rolling up to this symbol of old-school Hollywood glamour, “The Pink Palace,” as it’s affectionately known. (Fun fact: Elizabeth Taylor honeymooned here with six of her eight husbands, including Richard Burton twice.) It’s not like I haven’t been here before. I have. Drinks. Dinners. Breakfast down in the Fountain Room (thank you Suzy Shuster!). But never have I ever stayed the night. And Holy Jesus it wasn’t cheap. But I was choosing me… I was treating myself… I was so excited.

But.

BUT.

You want to hear the truth?

I cooooould fib and tell you I had an absolute perfect time, ran up and down the famous tropical-wallpapered hallways, luxuriated in my plush hotel-issued white bathrobe, ordered all the room service and scene.

Except — that’s not the full truth. And these days, I’m only interested in full truth.

So, below, I’m going to detail what actually happened during my stay at the hotel. It involves me losing then reclaiming something that, as it turns out, was already mine. Tears. Anger. Then … the unexpected pre-dawn moment that explained it all, past present and future.

But first, my massive mistake.